Chapter 2: A Shining Pillar of Deception

Chapter 2: Barrels of Fun

Leland-Sir, a Sesolston town official, paces up and down the dark floorboards of the meeting room in the city council hall. No familiar thunk of boots on wood, but instead a quiet, uneasy shuffling.

The door creaks open. An assistant peers around the large wooden door marked with the crest of the Kingdom of Somi. “… Sir? They’re here.”

The sight of four individuals walking into the room together would be enough to give even the most experienced travelers pause, as they have nothing in common. A small, but squat, powerful body, red eyes on an ashen face, an emotionless, unblinking gaze, and the steady, glowing pulse-hum of a forehead rune – Alterith, Rasa, Skythar, and Krytox have arrived. The young assistant’s back stiffens visibly with fear as the four stride in – two shorter, one at his height, and one over a length and a half taller. Despite the monstrous appearance of the group, Leland-Sir seems to relax visibly. The assistant does too, though for the young boy it is much more forced.

“Thank you for coming back,” Leland-Sir says. “Please, have a seat.” With a wave of his hand, the assistant is gone and the door closed. He notes quietly that the halfling is the only one who complies with his request. Rasa stands behind and to his right, with Skythar to his left. Krytox’s small, murky white eyes tower above and behind the three. Chuckling to himself, Leland-Sir remembers that the two reptilians aren’t built anatomically for the seats, and he never expected the dracen to ever sit down. On Dark Star, sitting down was akin to committing suicide, like begging the unliving beasts of the volcanic ash wilderness to come forth and devour. The slender, older man didn’t doubt that Rasa and Krytox’s respective peoples probably slept standing up. He found the duneskaj to Alterith’s right side facing him, and though his eyes were fixating on him, Leland-Sir knew that Skythar was surveying the entire room. Just like how a desert nomad of Fiera would survey the deadly shifting land for hidden threats beneath the sand. And as for Alterith… the official could tell that the halfling was seated and relaxed… and ready to split an orc in half with his axe that was large even by human standards. Yes. Orcs weren’t very well-liked among even the savage Warring Nations, much less here in the Middle World. Leland-Sir almost felt sorry for the brutes.

“Well,” he began, at length, “as you have no doubt heard around town, the time is drawing near for our beloved Princess Somi’s birthday, the special celebration of dou’fore double novem. Put in broader terms, it is her sixteenth year, and held in such special regard because of our Kingdom’s history. But you did not come here for a history lesson, nor did I call you here for that purpose. So let me explain.”

“The last time you were here, we mentioned the disease that has come to be known as the burning plague, made aware to us thanks to your help in bringing our fellows from Bartholomew here in relative safety.” Alterith and Rasa exchange glances. Relative safety? One of them had nearly been cleaved in two by a gnoll! Leland-Sir continues.

“In the last few days, we sent some of our militiamen to scout the fringes of our territory, searching for more information regarding the burning plague. They have discovered that behind the recent increase in bandit attacks and highway raids is the efforts of not one local orc tribe, but two: The Bloodaxe and Tornclaw tribes. We’ve never seen orcs and their kind band together like this since the dark days after the War of Ultimates, when many unlikely alliances were made in the name of survival…”

“Our town mortician-priests from the Church of Wee Jas identified the body of the halfbreed whom you slew in the cave. His name is Holg Bloodaxe, a cleric of The Many.” Leland-Sir shudders, as is appropriate for any civilized folk who thinks of the deity of slaughter, even in passing. Leland-Sir clears his throat. “We believe that The Many's tribal clerics may be responsible for this temporary alliance, though our chief concern at the moment are the mounting raids against our border settlements to the south, and the disturbing fact that a group of the Bloodaxe-Tornclaw alliance were able to evade Somi patrols and hide so closely to town." Leland-Sir's brow crinkles. "Shiane’s son’s kidnapping may have yet been boon in disguise.”

“In any case, we still do not know enough about the burning plague and where it came from. Given that we found some in the possession of the Bloodaxe-Tornclaw alliance, it is possible though unlikely that their clerics may possess alchemy skills and have brewed the nasty substance itself. We wish to request your presence in Bartholomew to ascertain the situation and aid the militiamen we have already sent there, but we do not wish to send you into unknown dangers, especially if more citizens besides the two young men of Bartholomew you found may be infected with the burning plague. After all, you are still very new to Sesolston, and especially after you rescued two of our children from the orcs and their kind, I personally would be loathe to just throw you to the dragons^*. If only we had more information…”

Meanwhile, Leland-Sir has begun pacing while speaking to the adventurers. He stops and looks at them. “Did any of you find anything in the cave that might provide a clue as to what is happening?”

ooc: If you possess a Scroll from Leland-Sir, please alter it to indicate "Bartholomew" instead of "Quasqueton." He technically hasn't given them to you yet in-game, so those of you who don't have such an item, don't worry. Thanks.

* This expression is the equivalent of "throw you to the wolves." Anyone not knowing Miderthian Common may be confused, but the meaning is more or less understandable.

The training he had done wonders for him. Krytox, as still as the trunk of a tree on a calm summer day, listened intently to all that Leland-Sir had to say. His common had improved, but there were still a few statements that got the better of him. Only his eyes moved while Leland-Sir paced about telling the story, though a small grin spreads across his face as he remembers the assistant being startled at the appearance of the troupe.

"All I know... mention of Jinam," he says, practically spitting the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. The Underlost then looks to others of the group listening for any information they have.

Although it had been a while since Skythar arrived on this continent, he still wasn't used to the natives' funny way of talking. Due to his uncanny ability to "stick out" as a runaway reptilian, Skythar had avoided urban areas for the most part. However, through the few interactions he did have, he came to respect their relative open-mindedness. While he received many glances and even stares, nobody questioned him, much less confronted him, which was much more than he would have received back at home. At home, where newcomers were always physically forced to meet with the chief to determine their motivations and connections.

"Jinammm mentionnned many timessss by funny looking lizzzarddd," adds Skythar, though it is clear he doesn't know much about Jinam or any related matters through his puzzled tone.

Alterith sits in the seat measuring the man sitting before him. "What you say may be true, they could have found means to concoct this, but they didn't. It came from the depths of hell itself. I have not seen the substance before, but I have seen similar things before. It was done by those whom I fled when I came to this world. It is a tool of the Endless War, of this I am sure. The helm and gauntlet of the Jinam Protectorate representative were recoverd by us, but you hold the skins with the writing on them. I'm sure they tell you more than we can. Perhaps if you shared what you had, rather than hiding it, our mission would involve fewer "dragons" and more hatchlings.

His mood is particularly cold, unusual given his normal jovialness. Something is obviously out of place, though nobody looking at him can quite place it. Only a mentalist could find the memories streaming through his mind. The Horde rushing down out of the mountains, the blood flowing from weapons and bodies alike. For every one that fell it seemed 6 more were there to take his place. He thought he had escaped the Endless War when we he came to Miderth, even as a prisoner of Rasa's people, he had been free of those nightmares, though subject to others. Now, it seemed, his past was coming back to haunt him, and endanger his friends. The nightmares would begin again, he was sure of it. Hopefully his newfound companions would be strong enough to turn them back to their home shell. Hopefully his new strength would be enough...

Rasa makes a slight nod to Alterith's comment, as something did seem out of place. Other than that, he lets out no emotion or response to the man's words. If Alterith chose to help them out, Rasa would once again follow suit, but either way, he didn't care. He was more interested in the opportunity for an adventure. The last cave they cleared out peaked his excitement, and he wanted more. He had forgotten how much fun he used to have on adventures before he came to the 5th shell and did some of the meaningless tasks Alterith asked him to do.

He continues standing there looking completely unconcerned with the happenings in the land. He'd follow Alterith either way, because he see's something in the halfling that many do not. He's much more concerned with the atmosphere of the room. While these people may have a new found trust in him in his compainions, he still has no trust of them.

Leland-Sir's aged but handsome features knot in a troubled look. "Good sirs, I assure you we are not withholding information from you." He turns his head toward Alterith. "Little friend, all I have been told thus far regarding the writing upon the skin tarps is that it was written in an ancient language, possibly the tongue of the dragons in ages past. Even so, those of our scribes who are versed in such a language will not be able to decipher it quickly." He glances at the more reptilian members of the group. "Your dragon tongues may prove useful in assisting us, but... in today's age the difference between dialects may differ too greatly already. Rest assured we will inform you what we discover about the information written on the tarps."

"if what you say is true about the involvement of the Jinam... it would be... disastrous for the kingdom!" Leland-Sir sits back down, putting his hands together in front of his mouth, elbows propped on the desk. He fixes everyone with a stare. "We'll need the 'visor' and 'gauntlet' you captured from the cave to verify that it is indeed the Jinam behind all of this." Leland-Sir's trembles as he says this. He is reluctant to request that the group relinquish some of their rightfully-found treasure, especially after doing a service for the town, but from the wavering in his suddenly emotional voice, and the monologue to come, the adventurers gather that such may be the best option.

Leland-Sir's face darkens. "This is a terrible situation, the reason being that our kingdom has always enjoyed cordial relations with the Jinam Protectorate, the warring nation from Impetus. It is their name you most likely heard uttered in the cave, because no other realm that we know of carries the name of "Jinam." The two histories of our nations pre-date the War of Ultimates, in two mercenary-explorers whom I imagine must have begun their careers similar to you all. Grimjaw, the lizardman high chieftain of the Jinam tribe and later First General of the Jinam Protectorate, and Kahlan Amnell-Somi, First Queen of the Kingdom of Somi after the War - both were fearsome warriors, nigh-legendary, well into epic proportions, and both laid down the foundations of peace that made the existence of their nations and their status as allies possible, securing their realms' survival in the dark ages that was the aftermath of the War.

"It is common knowledge - though perhaps not as well-known to non-natives such as yourselves - that to this day, relations have been productive and lucrative, in terms of trading, goods, services, and cultural exchange. Indeed, much of our kingdom's technical and military sophistication can be attributed to the Jinam's contributions. We in turn support them with resources. To discover that it was they who orchestrated this plot, and for whatever unknown reason!" Leland-Sir stops himself from speculating further, and looks at the group. "You'll understand now why we need to make absolutely certain that it is they who have done this.

"When we have verified the identity of the Jinam behind this, we will inform Somi-Siegard, the capital city, at once. Even so, after this is done, you all need to understand three very important things." He eyes the reptilians with a small amount of worry, unsure if their alien, reptilian minds understand. "First, no one outside of our town council, your group, and the King's high council can know about this. Ever. The socio-political impact would be too much to handle, especially with the arrival of our fair Princess Somi's coming-of-age celebration, and the Jinam recruitment efforts going on. Second, we as town officials, and even your group, may come under intense scrutiny directly from the capital. That will depend on how they take this news, once we verify it and send it out.

"Third, under no circumstances are you to reveal this information to any Jinam officials. Both in public and in private, your relations with all Jinam-affiliated persons must be cordial. The security of Sesolston - even the entire Kingdom of Somi - may depend on your ability to allay counter-suspicion. I am not exactly sure where most of you are from, though it is apparent from your mannerisms and appearances that you are not from Miderth. If you have negative history with the Jinam Protectorate, then avoid contact with them in public at all cost."

Having spewed his entire mind out onto the desk tabletop, Leland-Sir leans back in his chair, torrents of sweat wetting the collar of his otherwise clean town official's uniform. With a palm, he supports his suddenly heavy forehead as his mind swims.

"This is terrible... terrible..." He looks again at the adventurers, with a look that is both thankful that they came at this time, and sorrowful that they had to come at this time.


There is a pause in the meeting, and you all now have an opportunity to speak further with him before he moves on.

ooc: I assume that no one objects to entrusting the Jinam visor and Jinam rifle staff in Leland-Sir's care. While training to level up, no one in the group was able to discover how the items worked.

"You may have the items we recovered from the cave system for the time being. None of us are able to activate them, though I have seen them used before. Either item would be valuable, the set together are both rare and precious. We turn them over to you with the expectation of their return, or, in the absence of that, then proper compensation. These are your lives we are talking about saving here, as well as our own. The storm to come will be vicious for all. I ask for this boon, if we require healing following any of our journeys, then the town clerics will provide it at no charge to our group members. Otherwise, you can make your own peace with your maker, and the Jinam Protectorate for you will not receive any further aid from me. I have always offered help to those that need it on the roads and in the woods without asking for any compensation, now you ask for direct aid against a potential enemy I know well. This aid does not come for nothing, and the proof you need is hidden in my lair. Choose your path with care."

Alterith offers this up in a cordial, but firm manner. He is not offering any threat to the town, except for a lack of his aid against the storm he perceives on the horizon. His past experience backs his words with truth. Storm clouds seethe behind his eyes, and those watching him can almost perceive the danger he sees coming.

Either way, he will offer his service for this new mission, independent of whether he turns over the artifacts.

Rasa finally speaks up

"I agree with Alterith here. Choose your path wisely." he pauses for a brief moment and then continues. "And about your conditions. While i have no interest nor care to tell anyone at all of the happenings, your second condition is what bothers me. While some of the others may be more forgiving than I, if I catch someone from anywhere tailing me, they will end up dead in an alley. I do not want any unwanted attention. I am glad that the folks around here are starting to see me as less of a threat, but that is all i want. I wish not to be an enemy to this town, nor a hero. I wish to be another commoner, a nobody of sorts. Don't get me wrong, if Alterith wishes it, I will help you, but leave me out of any of your reports."

He then leans back up against the wall waiting for a response. Regardless of whether they take his words kindly or not, he does not care. All he knows, he will kill anyone who tries to tail him, as he feels that he made quite clear.

Leland-Sir's face looks slightly more troubled. He then shakes his head, ridding it of invisible cobwebs. "If we are fortunate, the Jinam Protectorate will have no reason to actively seek any of you, unless any of you have had previous history with them." He pauses briefly. Some of the group members stiffen. Could Leland-Sir know how they came upon Miderth?

But then he continues, after just a normal pause in the conversation, and the group relaxes.

"My strongest suggestion in that regard would be to seek the protection of the presence of city guardsmen or citizens, or act defensively by going into hiding. I say this because, should you decide to take matters into your own hands and retaliate against them should they seek you out, we will not be able to offer you any assistance, as we cannot jeopardize our relations for the sake of outsiders to the kingdom. However, if in the end you must, then do as you see fit - your lives are for yourselves to forfeit, should such an unfortunate event occur. Nevertheless, I'm just glad you all agree to remain quiet."

The meeting is interrupted by a knock on the door. The door creaks open and the nervous assistant peeks around it. "Leland, sir, um... Ponkal-sir is here to see you. I, uh, I know you didn't want, uh, any distractions... but uh, well, sir, he's right here, and..." The door flies open and the assistant is pushed aside as a tall, portly man that the group can only assume is the one named Ponkal enters the room. He grunts at the assistant, who whimpers and scurries away.

"Grows yaself some balls, boy!" Ponkal-sir shouts good-naturedly. "We's good folk here! No man-eating dragons here!" He tosses a wink at Krytox and Skythar. Leland-sir doesn't look upset. He doesn't look happy, either.

"Good day, Ponkal-sir. What brings you here?" Ponkal-sir laughs, a series of short snorts.

"Ah, yes... Leland-sir, I'll be needin' yer presence outside fer a bit, just a wee bit, yea?"

"Excuse me, good folk," Leland-sir tells the group, excusing himself. Outside in the hallway, the two men close the door behind them.

The four exchange looks.


ooc: You have some time now to roleplay out any dialogue you wish before the next development. If you'd prefer just to wait for the next development without any roleplay, simply post your indication (eg. "Boomer waits patiently for them to come back in.").

Alterith stares incredulously at the door behind him.

"I knew there was a reason I hated city-folk. Damn people have no gratitude or respect. We go out of our way to save his townsfolk, not to mention bringing news of a force gathering on their doorstep and a possible invasion of the Jinam Protectorate, and all I ask for is that the town clerics provide us with healing when we need it. What do we get? Nothing, a howdoyado, but sorry got someone more important to talk to. We'll see about that."

Alterith stands up and shoves the door crashing open as he follows close behind Leland-Sir.

"You still haven't answered my request either in the affirmative or negative. You ask a boon of me and my friends then walk out on us? I've a short mind to leave you to your troubles and go look for my own answers with no hesitancy or reservations whatsoever!"

Krytox watches as the halfling storms out the door.

"Hot-blooded fool," he mutters as he follows towards the door. He stops short of the hall and merely listens to the ensuing confrontation between Ponkal-sir, Leland-sir and Alterith.

Mid-conversation, Ponkal-sir pauses. Without taking his eyes off Leland-sir, "if ye insist, little sir, I'm just'a tellin' Leland 'ere about the city council's suggest'n how best to serve ye folk. We'll just be a moment. But if ye don't like our help, ye can take yer ragtag band to some other kingdom. Demihumans down south'll probably take ye in... for dinner. "

When Ponkal does turn down his gaze onto the fierce halfling, his expression suddenly changes. For a split moment, Alterith doesn't see a red-cheeked, portly old man, but the wavering, mirage-like visage of a large-toothed glowing red-eyed... monster. When next Ponkal speaks, his voice sounds like steel dragging across an iron grating.

"Otherwise, get the hell back inside."

The halfling's defiance still rages through his blood, but Alterith pauses. Was what he saw and heard... real? Alterith slowly walks back into the room, warrior's instincts on edge. His halfling's greataxe is ready to be released at a split moment should Ponkal become hostile. Skythar's forked tongue slithers in and out between his lips as he sees the halfling's bloodshot eyes. Being of one of the smaller races himself, he knows how pretentious the larger folk can be about height.

As the halfling enters the room, Ponkal-sir looks up and impales Krytox with a gaze, straight through the wall. The underlost lizardman sees the same visage in his mind, for a brief second. Though his exterior remains calm as ever, inside he jolts. Alterith trudges past him, muttering darkly. Skythar and Rasa watch on, the latter's hands disappearing into his dark cloak. No doubt thumbing his favorite blades, just in case.

After a moment more, a red-faced Leland-sir comes back into the room. "My apologies, good sirs," he says hastily. "Forgive me - I neglected to explain why I needed to meet with Ponkal-sir, so anxious was I. And please excuse Ponkal-sir - he is a good-hearted man, though some of his... power... remains with him from when he used to pursue an adventuring career." Leland-sir smiles sheepishly in apology.

"As for your requests, I cannot guarantee that our resident churches will provide their services for free. That would depend both upon them and the council representatives, though I could make a request on your behalf. More likely will be the possibility that, for providing services to this town and ultimately the kingdom, you would all be granted discounts for services such as smithies, equipment, and possibly healing. In any case, know that we have no intentions of requesting your services without proper compensation.

"As for my brief meeting just now, Ponkal-sir had come to inform me that the town council has sent out an official request for your group to be sent to one of our lakeside communities off the Sauron's Eye Lake, a trading post village known as Seawell. Here, I'll explain as I give you these." Apparently, Ponkal-sir had passed some small scrolls on to him, which he now distributes to the group. There are two extra. "These are traveling papers that will grant you free passage to Seawell, farther west past Somi-Quasqueton. The two extra can be for anyone else whom you wish to accompany you."

He hands them another scroll, slightly larger. "This one states your business - it explains that you are recent additions to Sesolston's town militia, sent on a mission to investigate the matter of the absence of some shipments - either due to the caravans or the trading ships themselves, we do not know which - which we were expecting several days ago." Leland-sir nods.

"As separate towns we tend not to concern ourselves in the affairs of each others' lost cargo. Shame really, sometimes, since Quasqueton is so much closer. Anyways, the hope is that while Jinam representatives are visiting this town and even Siegard and the other main towns, your absence due to the investigation in Seawell will help maintain security." Leland-sir eyes Krytox and Skythar. "It will also keep you all safer, should they have brought some of their... other "recruiters" here..

"The sooner you could prepare for this mission, the better. Seawell is nearly a tenday's travel away, with Quasqueton at least seven days away. Best of luck!"

As the group leaves and the door closes behind them, they hear an audible sigh of relief issue from back within the room.


ooc: Everyone gains the item Scroll from Leland-Sir (Grants official permission to travel to Seawell). This replaces the Quasqueton scroll that some of you may have in your inventories.

"What did he mean... power? Ponkal looked like demon...." Krytox says quietly to the group once the door had clicked shut. "Something not right. I do not want to see recuiters ever again."

The massive Underlost ducks through each doorway as they continue towards the exit to the building. Once outside in the bright sun, he looks around as his vision adjusts. His dark eyes flick from one member as he asks, "Did you see it?" Not taking as much care to keep his voice quiet, unlike the moments before while they were still in the shelter of the building.

Rasa Chuckles a bit as the halfling makes his remarks and begins to storm out. He always was blunt and stubborn. His smile quickly fades at the comment following it. He slips his left hand into his cloak giving off the illusion that he was fingering his blade. The people in the room might have been a bit troubled to know that he already had his knife out, but hidden in his right hand well before the new man entered the door. Putting his hand in his cloak was merely a deception. He didn't trust these people any more than his old "employers."

However, with nothing going on, he stands there coldly and calmly as ever. After all is said and done, he follows the group out, wisking his dagger away into its usual hiding spot as he turned out the door. Rasa is completely silent until he gets outside, but then asks more into Krytox's remark:

"I've seen many adventures with strange powers in my past experience...... Which means we do not want any ill encounters with him. I do want to hear about what you saw, because I saw nothing. However, we should save such matters for when we return to Alterith's Hideout to prepare for our next assignment."

then turning to Alterith with a grin on his face: "That is, of course, assuming that we are still going?"

As the events unfold, Skythar decides to withhold judgment on the situation. Being a foreigner on this shell and not knowing the context of the situation, much less trusting these folk, Skythar knows that sometimes the best course of action is to not take any action at all. As the halfling barges through the door, Skythar sighs inwardly. Apparently some of his newfound companions do not hold to such wisdom.

The scales on Skythar's back suddenly tingle as Altherith slowly walks back into the room. He suddenly realizes that the strange scent earlier was from Ponkal, and though he does not move, he readies himself for trouble. Skythar has been in many tight situations, and if necessary, he had already taken note of the quickest way through town into the woods. However, this plan does not prove necessary, as Ponkal leaves, and his group is finished briefing.

As they walk outside, Skythar answers Krytox, "Did not sssseeee, but ssssssmelll ssssstrange...."

"Perhaps you do not understand my request, sir. You want the visor and the gauntlet. If you expect us to turn them over to you, we need something in return. I have asked for a boon, if you can't provide it to us then make another offer. I will not give up these artifacts for nothing. Unless, as I said before, you can guarantee their return to us. I do not ask much. I suggest, that if you keep us happy, we'll work better together, that is all. Come now Leland-Sir."

Seeing he isn't going to get much now, and troubled by what he has seen, he leaves the items on the desk and follows his companions out of the office. Turning to Rasa he says almost sheepishly, "I tried your bargaining, apparently I lack the skill." Holding his axe in front of him he grins, "This has always been my best bargaining tool."

As his companions leave the building discussing the new player, he answers Krytox, "I saw the demon's eyes looking back into my soul, but if they were me own eyes, or those of his own demon I couldn't say". Alterith is troubled by what he saw. Something about this situation was not right, but for the time being he would withhold judgment. He is still unhappy with Leland-Sir's response.

The group suddenly stops in their tracks. Time flows backwards as they find themselves back in the office. They catch Leland-sir hastily putting away something he was reading while the group was out of the room.

It looked like some kind of script.

"Er, apologies..." stammers Leland-sir. "The DM forgot to write this into my script, but no, we will have no problem returning the items to you once we are done investigating. They were your rightful find, after all."


The flow of time on Novemterra returns to normal. They are back outside, with everything else having happened as normal.

He is not comforted that not everyone noticed the visage of Ponkal-Sir, but at least he was not the only one. Krytox remains visisbly on edge, though he shows no signs of fear. As the group continues on their way towards the hideout, the discussion changes to preparations for their upcoming assignment. The memories of Ponkal fade slightly as other important topics are brought up.

Krytox even opens the scroll provided by Leland-Sir, but struggles with reading the strange common and gives up after a short time. Taking care to keep his strides short so the smaller members can keep up, he asks, "Any been to Seawell or Quas... Quas... the other city?"

"I do not believe so, I have confined my travels to the local area, although I have wandered far from where I was brought to this shell. I do not know any of the lands I passed through, however, other than to describe the features I identified, such as the caves where I slept for my first few months or the rivers where I fished, the den of the wolves who led me to dinner so many times, those kinds of things."

Checking his equipment and his weapons, he shrugs, "Well, I'm ready to go. Shall we be off?"

Also grabbing all of his equipment carefully placed in his backpack and belt pouch, Rasa nods.

"It seems we have yet another fun little adventure on our hands eh? let's be off"

Following the others out into the woods, Skythar broods over what just happened. On one hand, the events that had just transpired did seem a little strange to say the least... But on the other hand, they did not seem to have ill intentions... In any case Skythar figures that travelling with his newfound companions is preferrable to wandering around by himself. Besides, life back home was much more... complicated. Desert life seemed simple to those who watched from the outside, but in fact, it was an intricate and dangerous game of balance, from trading with the various other tribes on the shell to the occasional encounter with those from the other side... Compared to that life, this seemed like a short stroll in an oasis.

But alas, Skythar will still have to keep his wits about him if he's going to get through this. He prepares for their travel and nods in agreement to Rasa's statement.

Krytox runs his fingers over his new 'toys'. The smooth metal is cool, even aftering walking through the sun-drenched area. He admires the beauty of the area for a second time as they make their way to the hideout. The branches of trees sway in the breeze, making the leaves rustle sound more like waves crashing on the shore. The sights and sounds still seem foreign to him, but they are not unenjoyable. The serenity of this place putting him in a near trance state while his feet shuffle along, blindly following the others.

While taking everything in, his clawed hand never leaves his weapon and the stark differential between it and the environment reminds him that the calm cannot last...

"Safe journeys to us. May Dakkon lend us the strength to return here again," the Underlost decrees in his native tongue.

The group returns to Alterith's abode in the woods. After picking up the Jinam artifacts and dropping them back off at the town square, the group sets off. Town square slowly yields back to busy urban sector, which slowly yields back to light residential districts, then the stretches of farmland and less wealthy fringe dwellings, stretching for longer than a few miles. Alterith and Rasa pass by their familiar spot - old woman Shiane and her children don't appear to be in the fields today. Though just a day or two is hardly cause for alarm.

They continue down the western path from town, eventually coming to the place where, should they have broken into the woods to their left, Alterith's abode would have been not one hundred yards away. Further down the path, a beautiful lake opens up to the right, with a single dark rectangular shape silhouetted against its gleaming speckles of light near its edge - Mystia's shack. Smoke slowly curling out the chimney, and the group makes out some shapes moving about. Though unable to discern any details, they appear to be human men and humankin, working around, doing various construction tasks, probably chief of which is fortification. Such a move would prove necessary and wise, given Mystia's new position as the group's financial manager. Some of the workers catch eye of the group from the distance, and know that while they are indiscernable to the workers, their shapes and heights given their identity away. The group responds to a couple of the workers' waves, and then continue on their way west.

After a tenday on the sunny but pleasant, well-traveled west path, the group reaches a tiny outpost settlement established in the main fork in the road. The militia stationed there, a joint group comprised of Quasqueton-, Seasolston-, and Seawell-loyal footmen greet the adventurers. Upon receiving the scroll given by Leland-Sir, the outpost grants them passage through the fork, and they continue westward toward Seawell.

Two days later, they arrive to the smaller but prosperous coastal trading town. Their scroll, having been stamped at the outpost, grants them entrance and good tidings. An alert but relaxed, almost leisurely stroll through the bustling port town reveals most of its citizens to be industrious and hardy, with plenty of trained local militia walking about, mingling with everybody else as regular folk. Taking a morning to walk across the town to the shoreline, they see that Seawell is situated at the base of a peninsula that juts out into the Sauron's Eye Sea as far as their eyes can see. Their vision is slightly limited, because much of the peninsula is bathed in a light mist. Its base is slightly less than half a mile wide, but they are able to see both sides of its base because of the town's higher elevation.

ooc: Besides the name of the town and what you've seen so far, no other information has been given to you about this locale. The basic understanding is that no ships have come to harbor in in the last few days. Seawell features all typical town locations, for ascertaining the situation.

ooc: Trevor, let me know what you've decided about your character. After that, I'll be able to start you off after we discuss a few details.

Alterith looks at his companions.

"Well, what now? I'm down for a flagon from yon tavern me thinks."

He looks to Rasa, " You will probably have the best luck finding out what happened to that shipment. You shouldn't have any trouble finding me if you discover anything." A wide grin spreads across his face.

"If anyone would like to join me..." He leaves the invitation open to the others as he heads off for the nearest tavern, or rather, the nearest upper scale tavern. He seeks out the "traders rest" or a similar mercantile sounding pub, tavern, or inn.

Upon entering, he finds a seat near the middle of the room keeping his back exposed and completely unlike the thief I usually play...err I mean...well you get the idea.

Leaning back in his chair he motions the nearest waitress over and orders a flagon of dwarven spirits, or their richest ale. He then rests his eyes, while his keen hearing focuses in on the words of those around him, trying to find out any information regarding the delayed shipments, or the lack of ships at port.

At the local tavern, the group sits to ale and a few small communal dishes of nuts and shredded beef, menial appetizers. Noticing that the group is unusually quiet, a patron walks over and introduces himself. He wonders aloud where the group is from, as apparently, Seawell hasn't seen its usual flow of visitors in the last few weeks. Hearing that they are from Sesolston, the patron raises his mug to them and welcomes them to town, and drains it before bidding them well and leaving in a slightly typsy, lopsided gait. As the night continues on and the group slowly spends more silver, another man dressed and equipped similarly with the insignia of the town militia stitched on the chest of his leather armor, walks over and introduces himself as one of the unit commanders of Seawell's well-trained militia.

"You're from Sesolston, then? We heard that we'd be getting help from them." Appraising the group, he arches his eyebrows, impressed. "Seems like Sesolston's into more interesting folk these days, eh?" He glances at Alterith while noting Krytox. Whatever thought crosses his cryptic features remains unspoken, though it is something like a smirk. "In any case, we've recently had to deal with much increased hostility from local savage tribes, that has kept us from finding out why there's been a continued absence of all ships from the sea, reef-side. So far, several volunteers, both citizens and militia, who have willingly gone of their own volition to search the reef, have not returned.

"Here," he adds, showing them an open scroll, "is a statement from our mayor promising 100 gold to each of you to find out what has become of the ships that should have been coming to port on a regular basis over the last three weeks, and resolve the problem. You are also promised all spoils recovered from the hostile folk you may encounter. However, should you find any grounded ships still containing cargo, we may still need to salvage it, as they are the property of their merchants. So we'd ask that you report such findings to us - we will not make it your responsibility to recover such items for us." After checking through the document for authenticity, the group hands it back to the militia commander, who then borrows the lit candle set on the table, tilting the thick cylinder of red wax toward his signet ring. He seals the letter, and then gives it back to the adventurers. "When you've completed your quest, return to the mayor's office in the center of town. Our attendants will arrange a meeting for you then. Be sure to have this with you at that time." He takes a long draught of ale.

"You can reach the reef either by the swampland through the base of the peninsula, or by water. Whichever way you choose is up to you, though you may run into the local savage tribes outside our town should you travel the land route. We have guides here in town who often give tours for visitors - they are familiar with the surrounding area and seasoned woodsmen. They may make your journey easier, though their services do not come cheap. Most locals around here also know quite a bit about the surrounding land, if you need such information. I must head off to prepare our defenses for tonight against possible savage raids, but before that, I'll just need your mark here..."

Any of you who have a signet ring heat it in the candle wax and push it against a parchment that the commander produces, to mark their meeting. For those of you who don't possess a signet ring, your fellow group members push their own signet rings multiple times on the parchment so that there are four marks.

"Please take care. Should you require my presence, you can ask any of our local militiamen for me - I am Commander Sean. Well then, gentle folk, I bid you good evening."


Each of you spends 5 gp. You can feel free to chat more for tonight, or simply retire to the inn upstairs, or something else. For your planning purposes, it is approximately 9 PM.